


Too late

by Nilaza



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Drabble, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, No happy ending here, grapich description of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 05:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilaza/pseuds/Nilaza
Summary: General Veers is severely wounded





	Too late

The smell of blood is strong in the impromptu first-aid station. The air is filled with it, and the smell of burned metal and the sounds of agonized groans. 

The Thundering Herd marched directly into a disaster, and almost everyone involved is either dead or severely wounded. They’ve lost more people than they did even at Hoth, and they don’t have a victory to make up for it.

Piett had read the reports with growing horror, and rushed down to the station as fast as he could. The medics did the best with him, general Veers, but the wounds are too severe.   
Piett braces himself as he brushes the curtain around Veers’ bed aside. He lies prone on the bed, unmoving, a thick layer of bandages covers Veers’ torso, and they are already soaked through with blood. His face is sickly gray, and he lies so motionless that, for a heart-stopping instant, Piett fears he is too late.  
But then Veers coughs weakly, like his broken body cannot muster the strength needed for even this simple task. His face contorts in pain and blood seeps from his mouth. Veers shivers, the massive blood loss has turned him cold. 

Piett sits on his bedside, with his eyes examining the damages; the bruises from Veers and his spat are nothing compared to the open wound in his torso that won’t stop bleeding. Whatever hit him had carved his chest in and ripped everything apart on its way out through his back. It’s a wonder he’s even still alive.

“Max..” it’s a whisper, Piett’s mouth is dry, his voice is broken. Ever so gently, he caresses Veers’ hand, “Max I am so sorry,” about everything, he means: The row, the nasty words and blows exchanged between them, letting him go into battle without making up. The outcome of the battle.

Veers is too weak to take his hand, so Piett takes his, squeezes it tight. Veers opens his eyes half-way, they’re foggy with pain, and Piett is not sure he knows he’s there, knows how sorry he is. Piett caresses Veers’ face, gently combs his fingers through his hair, runs a finger down a bruised cheek, brushes soft lips. 

“Firmus…” the voice is barely audible, breathless and weak, still it cuts through Piett like a razor. 

“Yes, Max-“ he wants to say more, but the words won’t come, his throat is tight and his eyes sting. It doesn’t matter either way, Veers can’t hear him. His eyes have closed and the weak breathing ceased.   
He continues caressing his hand tenderly, staring at the face he loves so much, more than he’d been capable of expressing while Veers was alive. He had never told him. Piett bites back a sob and closes his eyes, letting a couple of tears fall.

The curtain is brushed aside, and Veers’ xo stands there; half her face is covered in bacta patches, and her left arm is in a sling, she stops dead in her track when she looks at them. “The general is dead,” she whispers.

Word spreads to everyone, the few who can walk on their own comes to Veers bedside, they have to see for themselves that the invincible Iron Max Veers is not so invincible after all, and they can hardly believe their own eyes. 

Eventually, the eyes fall on Piett, and he hears hostile mumbling in the back.

“Look at the admiral, sitting there by the boss’ side pretending he’s sorry!” one says.

The others agree, and the looks turn from hostile to angry, fists clench, sneers appear on battered faces.

“He has no right sitting there when he sent us to that slaughterhouse only to get back at the general!” another says. 

Piett tries to muster up authority-infused protests, but he can hardly get a word in, doesn’t have time before the first blow lands.


End file.
